


Hungerstorm

by sigurfox



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alliterative Poetry, M/M, POV First Person, POV Melkor, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 06:27:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13428756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sigurfox/pseuds/sigurfox
Summary: Eä, primordial times. Melkor creates electric current, and the first ever lightning in Arda strikes one of the Maiar of Aulë. An incident that may or may not be accidental.***Here the Ainur take forms of things they make: Melkor is a lightning and Mairon is a rock.





	Hungerstorm

**Author's Note:**

> i listen to Björk way too much

Space, fairly foam alike,

Stirs on the tip of each spike

Of my mercurial hand.

Curious bent way I wend;

Walking in circles, my need

Wanders unwrought yet amid

Truths I contrive to unbolt.

Shock I want, I want a jolt

 

For the Valar the undue:

Force - fresh, ferocious - to

Furrow the sky thoroughly,

Flaring this fana off me.

Hunger’s inharmonies shift,

Giving a dangerous gift

To my new romantic trait,

No longer late in its crate.

 

Thorns of the thunderstorm thrive.

Limbs of a lightning alive

Bloom, blinding, ardent and bare,

Roving around in the air.

Crack the laws’ constancy’s lay.

Cast its consistence away.

Hurricane hail! hailstorm spill!

Rasp those restraints off my will!

 

Sparks, sprouting branches, unfold,

Trill onto metal and mold,

Twisting its tissue. It rips

Right through the hills of his ribs,

Knolls of one bent knotted spine.

This spiteful soul must be mine!

Here with a mind of his own,

Bold spirit yet to be known.

 

I’ll turn the charges to charms,

Grasp you with my many arms.

Smear on your fana a map.

Build in the body a trap, 

Bruising on you my bizarre

Arduous art. Truly are

Precious the treasures of terse

Greatest Smith’s gold universe.

 

Overworked, irked is his heart.

Currents of mine crack his part.

Seeing it crumble into dust

Crooked one straightens his crust.

Charred by the net of my touch,

Lovingly clutching his grudge

Maia uncorks and lifts up

Embers in anger abrupt -

 

Keen eyes unlock and unriddle,

Gleaming. His glance is a needle

Flung at me, long like a cord.

Taut and uptight, stretched toward

My countless eyes to caress

Too with a pinch of distress.

Ultimate intimacy,

Closeness to matter unseen.

 

Nonetheless I do not reave

Thread through which I will receive

Sacrosanct caring in time.

What do I do with it? I’m

Too close to harvest a hope.

I reach a treacherous trope,

Knowing he’ll have to adjust -

His fortune lies not in dust.

**Author's Note:**

> In case it doesnt make any sense lmao here is an explanatory summary:  
> (Feel free to skip it and adhere to your own different impression!)  
> Observing the quantum foam Melkor gets angry, because he hungers for the same kind of wondrous fluctuations in the macro world. In order to indulge his foul mood he starts a storm and imagines a lightning for the very first time and, casting whatever form he’s wearing aside, turns into the lightning and strikes down. Right where, hunched over, Mairon (in a shape of a rock himself) works on some solid substances. Melkor knows this Maia is special, very talented, hardworking and bold. Indeed, feeling the strike corrupt his work and his own fana, Mairon is furious. But in this fury Melkor suddenly sees an opportunity of a future bond and it awakens in him new emotions.


End file.
